<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Study Date by butch4butches</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846630">Study Date</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/butch4butches/pseuds/butch4butches'>butch4butches</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Grey's Anatomy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Daddy Kink, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-20 11:36:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,615</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27846630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/butch4butches/pseuds/butch4butches</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Season 8 Episode 14. Jackson brings dinner and red wine to Sloan’s place to study for boards. Lexie doesn’t come over later and fuck it up.</p><p>Warnings: Daddy/good boy dirty talk.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jackson Avery/Mark Sloan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Study Date</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Mark has his baby Sofia for the night while Callie and Arizona get to spend a romantic evening in the woods. How nice for them, while he spends his Valentine’s alone. He sighs and looks at Sofia while she fusses. “What should we do?” he asks, picking her up and swinging her in the air. “Should we see if the game’s on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The doorbell rings, and Jackson is at the door holding a paper bag and red wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got steak and I bought a really good red, and a salad, and I’m gonna cook for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Avery…” Mark teases. “I have a girlfriend.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And she’s operating tonight, so as soon as you put Sofia down, you can help me study for my boards, ‘cause I am behind. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Way </span>
  </em>
  <span>behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers. “What’d you pay for that bottle of wine?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fifty bucks,” Jackson answers, shaking his head. A respectable amount. Mark shrugs and opens the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackson heads to the kitchen, unpacking the bag of groceries and making himself at home. Mark smiles when he pulls out two ribeye steaks. “That’s my boy,” he says proudly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time Sloan called Avery “my boy” to Shepherd, trying to keep him on his service in plastics, it sparked thoughts and feelings that Jackson simply… can’t be blamed for. Thoughts that involve hot bodies pressed together and soft lips murmuring </span>
  <em>
    <span>good boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s my boy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and maybe thinking about a </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, daddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> slipping out of his own mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thoughts that Jackson really doesn’t need tonight. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>needs to study for his boards. He has to stay focused. So he just smiles and gets to cooking dinner while Mark puts the game on. No one in Seattle really likes the Mariners, but they pretend to. He plays with Sofia on the couch while Jackson cooks steak with roasted potatoes and veggies. Jackson loves seeing Mark like this - he makes a good dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they sit down to eat, the game is the third inning. Mark pops open the wine and pours two glasses. “To steak, wine, and bros,” he toasts, holding his glass up to Jackson. “To bros and wine,” Jackson smiles, clinking glasses and taking a sip, regarding Mark. Sofia babbles next to them in her highchair. The Miami Marlins score a point and the two men sigh and shake their heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark takes his first bite of steak and he moans, closing his eyes and savoring the taste. The sound makes Jackson almost choke on his next bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, kid, this is so good. Where have you been? You can cook this whenever the hell you want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avery laughs and shrugs. “Help me pass my boards and I’ll do whatever you want.” He meant to say cook whatever you want. Whatever. It’s fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right!” Mark swallows and coughs. “Let’s do it. Okay. 36 year old female comes in with pain in the right upper quadrant radiating to her shoulder for the past month. Nausea and decreased appetite. What do you do first?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Send her for an ultrasound.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Without even looking at the patient? What are her vitals?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, fine, what are her vitals?” Jackson asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tachycardic, hypotensive, fever of 104.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, and I’m guessing she’s not thinking too clearly?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right. What do you think you’d see if you look at her eyes?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark catches his gaze and Jackson stares back into his eyes for a beat too long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scleral icterus?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark nods. “Exactly. Remember the physical exam first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Got it. LFTs?” Jackson takes a sip of wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ultrasound?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna look at it or do you want to treat it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Jackson blinks. “Then... endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatography.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which means?” Mark prompts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Put an endoscope down the esophagus, through the stomach, through the ampulla of Vater to inject contrast medium into the biliary tree. Trawl the common bile duct for stones with a basket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And after the procedure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Antibiotics and a cholecystectomy once stable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Very good.” Mark smiles and winks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark quizzes him through the ninth inning, when the Mariners and Marlins are 5-5. Their plates are empty now, and Mark nods to the couch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got this, kid. You’re gonna kill it. Let’s watch the game and have another glass of this--” he checks the label and reads in an exaggerated French accent -- “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Château Roques Mauriac Bordeaux Supérieur.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackson laughs. “Sure. Thanks, man.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit on the couch and cheers. Sofia sleeps in her chair next to them. The end of the second glass has Jackson feeling more relaxed and less worried about the boards, or at least less motivated to urgently study for them. Sure enough, they watch the Mariners lose 5-6. Mark drains his last mouthful of wine, shaking his head ruefully at Jackson. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking Mariners.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They laugh and smile at each other, and their eyes lock for a long moment, until Sofia coos and Mark comments that he should put her to bed. Jackson nods and relaxes back into the sofa, feeling his blood pounding and watching Mark’s retreating form with a heavy gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He returns a couple of minutes later and picks up the wine bottle, swirling what’s left in it. “Finish it off with me?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Avery answers with a smile. He accepts the glass from Mark and holds it high. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are we toasting to this time?” Avery asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To you,” he smiles. “You’re gonna kill the boards and make daddy proud.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avery catches his breath and swallows. “Right,” he says, licking his lips without thinking. He goes along with it. “I’ll make you proud, daddy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mark laughs and playfully punches his shoulder. “That’s my boy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackson takes a long drink. The wine is running hot through his veins. There are many things Jackson Avery wants Mark Sloan to do to him while saying “That’s my boy.” Things that he would whimper and beg for. Things that he would say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes daddy </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>please daddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you daddy </span>
  </em>
  <span>for. Things that are making parts of him throb right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” Sloan says, putting his partial glass down on the coffee table and leaning back on the couch, his grey sweater pulling tight across his chest. Not that Jackson notices. “What do you want to do? Neuro? Cardio? Ortho? Onco?” He starts listing off specialties. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avery shakes his head. “I think I need to go back to the basics.” He finishes his last sip of wine and places the empty glass next to Mark’s, sitting back down closer to him. “Anatomy and physiology.” Jackson licks his lips again. Puts his hands on Mark’s shoulder and knee. “I think… I could use some hands-on practice.” He looks at Mark’s mouth, and then at his eyes. Fuck, Mark thinks, looking back into Jackson’s god damn beautiful blue eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you?” Mark asks, his voice deeper, his breathing a little heavier. He looks at Avery’s hand on his thigh, and then at Avery, and then he pulls Avery into his lap and kisses him hungrily. A small noise of pleasure comes out of Jackson’s mouth, and Mark growls and kisses him harder, pulling at his shirt and squeezing his ass, while Jackson pulls on his hair and grinds his hips in a rhythm that has him panting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Jackson gasps, breaking from the kiss but continuing to grind and whimper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Mark repeats, his jeans feeling tight, his hips jerking a little with each thrust. “Fuck Avery, look at you. That’s my boy.” Jackson moans in response, nodding for more, lust and bliss on his flushed face. “Do you like that?” Mark asks, holding Avery’s hips and encouraging him to grind down harder. Jackson moans again. “Do you like when I call you my boy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Jackson gasps. “Yes. Yes, daddy.” He didn’t mean to say it. But oh. Oh fuck. It feels so good. Yes, daddy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Mark groans, his grip tightening. He bucks up harder into Avery, the friction of their clothes and bodies so painfully good. “Say that again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jackson brings his lips to his ear and says in a low voice, “Daddy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moans. “That’s my good boy.” Avery’s cock throbs in his jeans and he kisses Mark, hard, moaning, tugging at his shirt. Mark shoves him down on the couch and pulls his shirt over his head, starting in at Jackson’s plaid button-up. He wants to take it slow and be a tease, kiss him slowly after every button, make him wait and beg, but he needs him now. Needs to hear more of those little moans. Needs to hear him say </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes daddy </span>
  </em>
  <span>again and again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Jackson’s shirt is open and Mark’s hands are on his belt buckle and he’s asking “Is this okay?” and Jackson’s whimpering </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span> and then Mark is rubbing his hard cock through his boxers and his eyes are closed, mouth open, whimpering </span>
  <em>
    <span>please daddy please please please fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mark takes him out of his boxers, stroking up and down slowly. He wants to memorize the way Avery looks underneath him, half undressed, skin flushed, writhing and begging and jerking his hips up into his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Fuck!” Jackson moans. “Please.” He looks up at Mark. “I’m too close-” he stammers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Mark asks, smirking, stroking a little faster and playing with his tip. “Are you gonna cum? Just from daddy rubbing your cock?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Avery’s moans pitch louder and he jerks in his hand, crying out </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck fuck fuck ohhh daddy</span>
  </em>
  <span> as he does exactly that. It’s the hottest thing Sloan has ever seen. He teases his thighs and chest and kisses his neck while he comes down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now that’s a very good boy,” Sloan smiles. “But we’re just getting started…” </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>